


Den of Thievery and Murder

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh, not sure how long this will be. Probably not very. Something I came up with since I've just got one series going.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Athos' apartment_

_Dear Athos,_  
_I trust you will share this letter with Aramis and Porthos, but I couldn't leave without any explanation no matter what Captain Treville had ordered. As you read this I will be well on the road to my assignment. When or if you next encounter me do not let on that you know my identity. My life will depend upon it. By now smoke should be billowing from your ears and I wouldn't want to be in the captain's shoes when you approach him over this. For I know that's what you will do. But I can do this by myself just... trust me._

"Merde!" Athos may have not had smoke escaping from his ears but he had built up a good head of steam as he raced out of his apartment to gather up his two brothers.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Not bothering with niceties, Athos burst through the captain's door closely followed by Porthos and Aramis. Slapping d'Artagnan's letter on Treville's desk Athos placed both hands there as well and leaned forward with blue eyes blazing. " _WHERE...IS... HE_?"

"You’re late," Treville drawled, picking up the letter. "I thought you'd be here faster than this once you determined d’Artagnan was nowhere to be found.” Scanning the boy’s letter, Treville cursed under his breath. “Knew that young man wouldn’t keep this to himself even though I told him not to say anything.”

" _He_ didn't elaborate upon his mission!" Athos snapped, not caring one wit that the man before him was his superior officer. " _You_ on the other hand should have informed _me_ that you had plans for our pup."

"You're not his pere, Athos," Treville retorted swiftly, his eyes catching movement from Aramis and Porthos who flanked their brother and appeared ready to pull Athos back if needs must.

"You are correct in that, but you know how we all feel about d'Artagnan," Athos then glanced away from Treville's ironic gaze. "Especially me," he mumbled softly. "Lad's like a son." Looking back at his captain, Athos’ eyes narrowed. "It would have been the done thing to at least have informed us on d’Artagnan’s mission."

"There have been numerous complaints brought to my office recently concerning unrest in the region of Bresse-sur-Grosne about a group of young malandrins." Treville handed d'Artagnan's letter back to Athos. "Sometimes it's just simple robbery," he paused briefly as Treville noted a questioning brow go up on Athos' face.

"And those other times?" Athos asked, positive he wouldn't like the answer given.

"Murder," Treville bit out bluntly.

"What is d'Artagnan's job?" Aramis asked, squeezing Athos' shoulder gently. Aramis had a feeling he'd need to ground his friend shortly.

"To infiltrate the band, gain intel where they'll next hit and report back to me." Treville waited for Athos to vent his feelings once more and he wasn't to be disappointed.

"You sent our boy into that den of thieves without backup!" Athos yelled, about to burst a blood vessel. If Treville weren't his captain he'd give him a right hook to the jaw that the man wouldn’t soon forget. The way Athos felt right now he seriously considered doing just that.

Before Treville could answer, Porthos had his turn. "There's more to it than that," Porthos spat. Being on a number of undercover assignments himself he figured the captain left a few small details out.

"Reports came in that those same malandrins were heard boasting of a plot to kill Their Majesties," Treville heard a low groan come from Athos and noticed how Aramis' grip tightened on his lieutenant's shoulder. "Of course that may be all that it is but I don't want to take that chance." Treville was surprised that Athos hadn't interrupted him. The man looked positively livid.

“Yet,” Athos growled, “knowing all of that d’Artagnan was sent out alone.”

“Did I not mention earlier that this group is comprised of _younger_ men? Or was that too over your head to comprehend?” Treville knew he was in for another explosion so when it came he simply sat back and waited it out.

All three Musketeers started mildly protesting at first until their combined voices rose to an ear splitting level that made anyone outside think it was thundering. His last nerve completely stomped on, Treville slowly rose to his feet. “ _Enough!_ ” he shouted. “Stop this caterwauling immediately!”

Unbelievably it was Porthos who first saw reason and instantly stopped complaining. “Bresse-sur-Grosne ain’t that far away," he pointed out to his friends.

Getting a hold of himself Aramis pushed his hat back, rubbing his chin. “A good week’s worth of traveling won’t break us,” he shot a quick look toward Athos who was still quietly seething. “What say you, Athos?”

“Whoa, gents!” Treville sighed and came around his desk. “None of you are to go after him.”

“D’Artagnan should have had back-up!” Aramis voiced loudly, forgetting himself again. Seeing Treville's set features meant they'd all be butting their heads up against a brick wall over this. 

“It would have raised suspicion if the lad were to have traveled to his destination with you three hanging on to his coat tails,” Treville rolled his eyes. “Regardless if all of you were out of uniform, a group of strangers approaching would have risen a red flag.” Staving off another argument he could see brewing, Treville held up his hand. “Lest you all forget… d’Artagnan _is_ a Musketeer now.”

“Oh, oui,” Athos ire was not contained yet. “ _Lest us not forget_ " he threw Treville's words back at him, "the boy’s only twenty one years of age. Quite a seasoned soldier into the bargain too,” his eyes shot fire at Treville.

“The youngster’s more than proven himself thanks to all of you,” Treville kindly reminded his men. “And King Louis requested d’Artagnan personally to accomplish this task. After all the lad’s the king’s champion. It would have appeared decidedly odd if the boy turned His Majesty down.”

That took the wind out of their sails as the inseparables looked at one another not knowing what to say or do. If d'Artagnan was under orders from the king himself there wasn't much they could do about it but worry and wait it out.

“Finally something that caught your attention,” Treville smirked. “This mission was something upon which Louis had been considering for the past several weeks once word had reached us.” Still his men weren’t satisfied and continued to make grumbling noises about trailing after d’Artagnan. “Steady there, gents,” Trevilled stood up. “I’m not giving you my permission to go after him.” Stepping around his desk he paced up and down in front of his infuriating soldiers. “At least not yet.”

“Then when?” Athos fumed, his patience sorely tested.

"If there is any type of threat to Their Majesties d'Artagnan will get word to me and I'll have several units sent out to give him aid in bringing these malandrins to justice," Treville silently counted to ten. He immensely disliked having to explain himself but he realized long ago the close ties forged between the three men. Add d'Artagnan to that mix and the inseparables had tightened their bond of brotherhood even further to include the youngster. Cutting them some slack every now and then just made life easier on Treville.

"What if there isn't any threat," Porthos asked. He hated the fact that the whelp was out there all alone. No matter that d'Artagnan was a damn fine Musketeer in his own right. Their pup hadn't been out of their sight since he came rushing into the garrison that fateful day wanting Athos' heart at the end of his rapier. This wasn't right.

"Then d'Artagnan will stay with that group until he learns where they will strike next and he will then get himself out of there and head back to Paris," Treville pinched he bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming on.

"I want it noted that I do not agree with any of this," Athos spat and then spun around to leave without waiting to be dismissed.

Stunned, Porthos and Aramis watched Athos' departure. They weren't quite sure if they should follow him or wait for proper dismissal. Figuring their captain was fed up enough with their attitude the two Musketeers silently waited.

Waving them off, Treville made a disgusted sound. "Dismissed." Once they were gone Treville reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his whiskey flask.

++++

_Three weeks later_

_Bresse-sur-Grosne, in the region of Bourgogne in eastern France_

Riding through the small village, several Bressois waved hello to d'Artagnan. He had just come from purchasing a new harness for Zad which had decided that today was the day it should fall apart on him. Having been taken in by Jordan's group these past two weeks, d'Artagnan was comfortable enough with his cover story to make several new acquaintances in town.

For now though d'Artagnan was heading back to the old farmhouse Jordan's men were staying at. The home had belonged to Jordan's parents and when they had passed away several years ago he had inherited it. The Des-prez family didn't have much and according to Jordan that wasn't an exaggeration. Hence Jordan forming a gang made up of local young men not pleased with their lot in life.

Not having learned anything of great import yet d'Artagnan had no need to get word to Captain Treville. He could only worry on his brothers and their reaction when they discovered him gone. Athos would be furious, of that d'Artagnan would place good money on. Porthos probably growled at anything and anyone that moved in his vicinity. D'Artagnan guessed that Aramis would go to the garrison chapel and light several candles for him. He was certainly glad not to be the captain right now.

Arriving at the farmhouse, d'Artagnan noticed three extra horses mixed with the others as they grazed in the pasture. He was curious as to whose they were. Stepping inside the house d'Artagnan soon got his answer.

"Jacques, you get your harness?" Giles called out.

It took but a moment for d'Artagnan to reply. He still was getting used to being called by another name. _Jacques_ was the first thing that came to mind when thinking up a cover name for this assignment. "Oui," d'Artagnan shrugged. "No problem."

"Bien, we had a slight one while you were gone," Roy said and pointed toward a corner of the room where three men sat on the hardwood floor. Their hands were tightly bound in front of them while their legs were stretched out and tied at the ankles.

Swallowing thickly, d'Artagnan reacted like nothing was wrong. He had to or give up his cover. "Who are they?"

"They say they're just passing through and heard about us," Abel offered. "For what it's worth I don't believe them."

"What does Jordan say?" d'Artagnan asked, his gaze trying not to linger too long on their captives.

"He's not sure either," Blanchet replied as he stood by Jacques' side. "They're all a bit long in the tooth don't you think?"

Going to stand in front of the silent threesome, d'Artagnan stared down into those very familiar faces. All of them wore pained expressions. Tilting his head to the side, d'Artagnan pretended to study them as if he had never seen them before. "Certainly for _our_ group they are."

When Blanchet walked off, leaving d'Artagnan by himself, he glared at the older men. Getting down on his haunches he hissed, "So this is what _trust_ looks like." Standing back up, d'Artagnan shook is head sadly in disappointment as he walked away from the inseparables.

"Guess the whelp's proper mad at us," Porthos grunted low enough for only his two brothers to hear.

"Whose idea was this again?" Aramis shot a bitter look Athos' way.

"He'll forgive us," Athos murmured with a quick look into d’Artagnan’s unforgiving face, "eventually." But the hurt in the boy's eyes tore at him making him wish that they had all stayed back in Paris.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Bresse-sur-Grosne, Des-prez farmhouse_

"Your new friends over there trust us not to attack you while you're feeding us?" Aramis dug into the stew d'Artagnan had given all of them, even though it was rather on the bland side.

"I believe Jordan feels there are enough of us to go around to handle just three men if you decide to give us any trouble," d'Artagnan's sarcastic tone enveloped all the inseparables. Noting Athos' raised brow, d'Artagnan nearly laughed out loud. "This is what you get for nosing into matters you do not belong in, old man," he said it loud enough to make the others think d'Artagnan was giving them a hard time. Seeing Athos nearly spit out a mouthful of stew at his remark, d'Artagnan smirked.

So far Porthos hadn't said much, then again the bigger man was wolfing down the stew like there was no tomorrow, and if d'Artagnan couldn't prove to Jordan that none of them posed a serious threat there very well may be _no tomorrow_ for his brothers. Whispering as he knelt down in front of them to retrieve their empty bowls, d'Artagnan glared at each of them. "Can't believe the captain let you come after me."

"'E didn't," Porthos offered sheepishly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Stew ain't half bad," he handed his bowl to the pup.

Quietly whistling through his teeth, d'Artagnan's eyes widened at Porthos' admission as he reached for the bowl. "You guys are gonna get it," he sing-songed pleasantly, earning three grim faced looks frowning at him. Then something else occurred to d'Artagnan that he should have thought upon earlier. "How did three trained soldiers like yourselves get caught with your pants down?"

"Pants weren't down," Porthos shrugged with a sideways glance at his two silent brothers, one on either side of him. "If'n ya noticed we're missing a piece of hardware on our shoulders."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan grimaced. " _Deliberately_? God!" he ran both hands through his hair. "Stupid times three," he walked away shaking his head.

"D'Art don't think much on our plan either," Porthos muttered under his breath, knowing his brothers heard him.

"One can only wonder why," Aramis retorted with a hard glare over at Athos.

"My idea," Athos grumbled tiredly, "my blame if this doesn't work out and pushes the boy further into jeopardy."

"Ya think?" Porthos banged his head lightly against the wall trying to figure out why he didn't protest this crazy plan at the beginning.

++++

"Learn anything, Jacques?" Jordan threw a casual arm across the younger man's shoulder bringing their heads close together.

"While I questioned them they're sticking to their story about tracking your group down in order to join up."

"Any truth to it?"

"I'm a pretty good judge of character and can usually tell when someone's lying to me," d'Artagnan prayed Jordan believed him. "They seemed sincere enough as I talked with them, and I didn't feel that they were bluffing," he pulled away, tucking his arms under his armpits while he awaited Jordan's decision.

"Guess it won't hurt to add to our numbers," Jordan observed the various young men in the room with him. Most he had known since childhood. Others had heard of them like the three older men they had captured. "I s'pose they'll be good for something." With a long look at the three newcomers Jordan glanced back at the youngster standing idly by. "Don't bother tying them back up again."

"They're in?" d'Artagnan held his breath.

"As far as I let them," Jordan grinned and winked before going over to see what Blanchet and Colbert were arguing over.

After Jordan walked away from him, d'Artagnan lazily loped his way back to his older brothers. "Get up off the floor."

As one their heads jerked upward. Three pairs of wary eyes blinked up at d'Artagnan. Then the inseparables took turns looking at one another before slowly picking themselves up.

Athos tried to reach a hand out to the boy, but d'Artagnan backed peddled away from his touch causing a formidable scowl to form on Athos' face.

"Don't make any waves while you're here," d'Artagnan warned. "If I need any help you'll be the first to know," he announced cooly before leaving them floundering.

"Yeah, kid's pissed," Porthos watched as d'Artagnan turned away from them. When he glanced back at his brothers, twin looks of frustration were being aimed his way. "I'm just sayin'."

"Merde," Aramis moaned quietly. "There won't be enough groveling to make this right with our pup."

" _Groveling_?," Athos turned his nose up. "No such thing in my repertoire."

Seeing Athos' go over to talk with Jordan, Aramis shared a long suffering look with Porthos. "Should have known Athos would have nothing to do with such a _human emotion_."

Laughing Porthos slapped Aramis on the back, nearly knocking his friend into Giles who had passed by. "Athos doesn't _do_ emotions. How'd ya forget somethin' like that?" Then both men followed Athos' example and joined their older friend.

++++

"Do I presume since no word was sent from you and that you're still here that nothing new has been learned?" Aramis had come up from behind d'Artagnan as the younger man was about to go outside. He had become bored listening to Jordan inform Athos of the many robberies he and his band have committed. Though Porthos appeared to be intrigued by the leader's boasting.

"Come with me," d'Artagnan held the door open and waited for Aramis to follow. He walked inside the stable to tend to Zad. Being the only ones there d'Artagnan felt it safe to reveal a few more details. "So far they've said nothing on wanting to hurt Their Majesties. Which is why Captain Treville hasn't heard from me." He picked up a brush and glided it slowly across Zad's back. "And Jordan's been laying low and hasn't made any decisions one way or the other on his next move. That's why I'm still here." Turning away from Aramis, d'Artagnan then felt a gentle touch to his shoulder. Twisting his head around, he arched a brow in question.

"We were concerned for you," Aramis let his arm drop. Holding both hands out in front of him, Aramis tried to reason with d'Artagnan. "That is why we did what we did."

"Trailing after me like I'm a lost puppy who doesn't know any better," d'Artagnan scoffed and continued grooming his horse.

Hanging his head down, Aramis felt shame fill him for not only his behavior in this matter but for Athos and Porthos as well. "We know you can handle yourself..." he didn't get to finish as d'Artagnan rounded on him, pushing Aramis against one of the posts, shocking him at the anger he perceived coming from the lad.

"Your presence here tells me otherwise," d'Artagnan hissed, releasing his friend.

"You have to admit that the few lone assignments Treville's given you none of them were undercover," Aramis grimly pointed out. "Tis a whole different kettle of fish when you are working alone."

"I wouldn't know," d'Artagnan snapped throwing the brush he held into an empty bucket, "since I'm now _not alone_." Stomping away, d'Artagnan left the stable.

"Morbleu! Could that have gone any worse?" Aramis sighed and followed their youngest back to the farmhouse.

++++

"How long you gonna keep cleaning that pistol, Jacques?" Roy had been observing their newest member for the past twenty minutes cleaning his weapon.

Smiling, d'Artagnan checked the pistol again making sure it was in prime condition. "A good friend at the time once told me to respect my weapon and it will respect me."

"Good advice," Jordan nodded and pulled up a chair sliding it closer to where Jacques sat.

Hearing Porthos' bark of rough laughter coming from another corner of the house, d'Artagnan's eyes tried to seek him out.

Nodding in that direction, Jordan smiled. "That one's making himself right at home playing Passe-dix with the boys.

Craning his neck, d'Artagnan noted the circle of men, in another room, all on the floor playing a game of dice. Only Porthos could turn any situation to his advantage he mused, all the while uncomfortably aware of Jordan's close proximity.

"I hope the lads don't lose too much to him," Jordan murmured. "After all they nearly spent all their spoils in town over a week ago."

"You so sure they will," d'Artagnan snorted.

"Porthos has that mean and hungry look of someone whose known poverty at its lowest level and be damned to anyone that tries to take anything away from him."

"I assume it's a case of you having _been there and done that_?" d'Artagnan was surprised at how fast Jordan had figured Porthos out. It made him nervous about what Jordan would come up with in regards to Aramis and Athos.

"Takes one to know one, Jacques," Jordan's eyes took on a sad quality just then. He didn't realize it but that look told the boy a great deal. Shaking his past memories off, Jordan patted Jacques' arm. "I feel it's time we head for Paris."

Tilting his head, d'Artagnan studied the other man intently. "Why there?"

Chuckling, Jordan stood up. "Why not?" he countered.

"That's not an answer." Jordan's eyes held deep secrets d'Artagnan thought while watching the man go sit down on the floor with his other men to enjoy the game Porthos had going. Did those _secrets_ endanger the lives of the king and queen? He hoped not and vowed to discover what was on the other man's mind.

++++

_Note:_

_Passe-dix,_ also called passage in English, is a game of chance using dice. It was described by Charles Cotton in The Compleat Gamester (1674) thus: "Passage is a Game at dice to be played at but by two, and it is performed with three Dice. The Caster throws continually until he hath thrown Dubblets under ten, and then he is out and loseth; or Dubblets above ten, and then he passeth and wins."[1] Andrew Steinmetz, in The Gaming Table: Its Votaries and Victims, described it at greater length but somewhat confusingly (the results of rolling a 10 are unclear, depending on whether it wins for the bank or is a push, there is house advantage is at best 0, and at worst negative, and the suggestion that it was played at the crucifixion is of course sheer speculation): "Passe-dix is one of the, possibly the, most ancient of all games of chance, is said to have actually been made use of by the executioners at the crucifixion of our Saviour, when they parted his garments, casting lots, Matt. xxvii. 35. "It is played with three dice. There is always a banker, and the number of players is unlimited. Each gamester holds the box by turns, and the other players follow his chance; every time he throws a point under ten he, as well as the other players, loses the entire stakes, which go to the banker. Every time he throws a point above ten (or passes ten -- whence the name of the game), the banker must double the player's stakes and the stakes of all those who have risked their money on the same chance. When the game is played by many together, each gamester is banker in his turn."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went back to add this. I know there are some readers out there that have responded to me with kind feedback that are French and live in Paris. Please, I hope you are all safe after listening to the news tonight about the attacks in Paris by Isis. At last count nearly 120 are dead. And it is still going on. I hope you are all safe, mon amis.
> 
> ++++
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next Day - Still on Des-prez farm_

Observing the activity of Jordan's men, Athos surmised everyone would be leaving shortly. Casually walking over to where d'Artagnan was packing supplies into the men's saddlebags, he leaned toward the boy. "Any idea where we're now headed?" he kept his voice quite low as he too began to help with the packing. To anyone watching him it would appear Athos was just doing busy work as he was not looking directly at d'Artagnan when he spoke. This way suspicion couldn't be cast the lad's way for being singled out.

Without facing his mentor, d'Artagnan whispered back. "You lot could have saved yourselves a whole lot of time and trouble coming to check up on me." Some of the items he was packing ended up being shoved into the saddlebags so roughly it was a wonder they remained in one piece so angry was he.

Knowing the pup couldn't see him, Athos rolled his eyes anyway. He wondered if their youngest was ever going to forgive them. Still, he needed to know what was behind d'Artagnan's remark. "Are you going to keep me on tetherhooks or will you share your wealth of information with me?"

Throwing two filled saddlebags over his shoulders, d'Artagnan turned around and brushed past Athos. Going over to Abel, he handed one of the saddlebags to him. Clapping the other man on the arm, d'Artagnan grinned. "I can't wait to see Paris," he pretended enthusiasm for their journey. "How about you?"

Glancing over at the two younger men chatting with each other, Athos frowned while stuffing another saddlebag full. He realized d'Artagnan had answered his question without having to deal with him directly. At first he was annoyed at that but then Athos thought it was a rather sly move on the boy's part to answer him his question in this manner. Feeling movement behind him, Athos sensed his two brothers had decided to join him.

"Discover anything of significance?" Aramis quizzed as he too grabbed an empty saddlebag and began to help out.

"You'll never believe where we're going?" Athos' one brow rose high, stabbing his long-time friend with a somewhat sardonic expression.

Doing a double-take at Athos' look, Aramis nudged Porthos in the ribs. "Why do I get the feeling we're in for a surprise?"

"Eh, Athos," Porthos growled low, "go on," he urged. "Might as well get the bad news over with."

With two pair of curious eyes upon him, Athos shrugged. " _Paris_."

"Diantre!" Aramis shook his head, noticing Porthos doing he same thing.

"Should a just stayed there," Porthos grunted in displeasure. "Whelp must be really fumin' by now."

"Oh, I think that's pretty much a given, mon ami," Aramis sighed.

"We know why we're headin' there?" Porthos finished filling another saddlebag and handed it over to Giles as the other man had empty hands.

"Didn't have time to ask him that," Athos finished up, along with his two brothers. "But somehow I do not think d'Artagnan is privvy to that knowledge yet."

"Treville has tripled the guards on Their Majesties just in case," Aramis reminded them, though he knew they weren't likely to forget their captain's words.

Rubbing his chin, a concerned Athos watched d'Artagnan use his natural charm to worm his way into these cut-purses' ranks. It was easy to see why they would be so willing to believe anything the boy told them. He'd keep this thought to himself and dared not say it to the pup's face, but d'Artagnan had the look of an ingenue. Someone you'd want to trust right off. The lad's willingness to listen and to help anyone made d'Artagnan friends wherever he went.

Noting Jordan enter the house, having been outside for a time, Athos, Porthos and Aramis all waited to hear what the man had to say as it was quite obvious Jordan was about to make an announcement of some type.

"Gentlemen," Jordan's voice rose above the din created by his men who were all talking loudly, "as you know we're going to Paris where we'll be meeting up with someone of my acquaintance who has been paid to do some scouting for me."

Not wanting to create any waves, but curious none the less, Athos spoke up. "May we inquire as to what sort of _scouting_ expedition this person's been on?"

"You may ask," Jordan chuckled, his gaze locking with Athos' steady one, "but none of you will know til I'm positive we can pull what I have in mind off without a hitch."

"Intriguing," Aramis admitted, crossing his arms as he waited to hear more.

"Oui," Jordan's head dipped slightly toward the newcomer, " _intriguing_ is a good word for what I want to do." Seeking out a familiar head from amongst his men, Jordan finally spotted the long, dark hair belonging to Jacques. "Jacques, come with me."

Instantly obeying, d'Artagnan strode over to Jordan who was about to head back outside again. "What do you need of me?"

"I've got to admit you're one of the brightest youngsters I've come across," Jordan grimaced. "Not that I'm saying my friends are stupid, but some of them have lived here all their lives and know nothing else but a hard life of farming," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not all of them can read or write either." Placing his hand on the boy's back, Jordan ushered them both out the door. Walking down the steps Jordan looked sideways at Jacques, coming to a decision. "This might anger a few of them but I don't care any longer. I've got to depend on someone that has more brains than a pig."

Not being able to help himself at the comparison, d'Artagnan's roared with laughter. Eventually wiping the tears dripping down his face, he got himself back under control. D'Artagnan could tell Jordan was more than amused himself. "It's nice to know I'm smarter than the livestock that still graces your farm."

Catching young Jacques by the arm, Jordan pulled the lad toward the stables. "Mind you don't repeat any of what I said to them back there," he focused on the boy, "or I'll have a rebellion on my hands."

Crossing his heart, the wide smile that spread over d'Artagnan's face wouldn't quit. "They'll never hear it from me." Going over to Zad he worked placing his saddle and harness on his horse. He watched Jordan doing the same. "So, since we've established that I'm smarter than your average pig," d'Artagnan's small huff of laughter escaped him again, "what do you have in mind for me?"

Looking at the boy, while taking care of his own horse's tack, Jordan grinned. "You'll be my second-in-command."

Giving a low whistle, d'Artagnan was stunned. "I won't let you down," he instantly promised, wincing inwardly at what his three brothers would have to say once they found out. But d'Artagnan cared not for they should have never been here to begin with. What he truly wanted to convey to them wouldn't be acceptable in polite company. Then again, d'Artagnan wasn't in _polite company_ to begin with so he still may do so when the opportunity arises.

"Didn't figure you would," adjusting the harness on his own mount, Jordan finished up. "How do you feel about robbing the _Louvre_?"

++++

_Note:_

LOL! Yes, I know. Shades of Sleight of Hand.


	4. Chapter 4

_En Route to Paris_

"So are the rumors true that you and your gang left behind a few bodies lying around after some of the jobs you've pulled?" d'Artagnan rode abreast of Jordan as he finally decided to ask their leader a few questions.

"Mmmmm," Jordan hummed with a sideways look at the younger man. "You shouldn't listen to everything you hear." 

Taken aback, d'Artagnan just stared at Jordan with a funny look on his face. "Are you saying that none of you ever killed anyone? I mean rumors always have a touch of truth in them."

"Ease your mind, lad," Jordan chuckled. "Non, at least not by our hand," he grinned as he heard the boy's huff of annoyance. "At the time we needed a little something to add to our reputation," he sent the youngster a sly look. "If people assumed a dead body here or there was our work we let it ride."

"Putting fear into people's hearts whenever they heard you and your men were in the area," d'Artagnan smiled in understanding. "Smart."

"We thought so," Jordan winked at the lad. "Once we get to Paris take charge of the men. Make sure they don't get into trouble while I meet with my contact."

"Will they listen to me," d'Artagnan pulled a face. "I'm still worried that they'll resent any orders from me. No matter your words to the contrary."

"I've had a talk with Colbert, Pierre and Blanchet," Jordan offered the boy a fond look, "They were more than ready to accept you in that position, having noticed that quick intelligence you possessed right away."

"What of the others?" D'Artagnan certainly didn't need to borrow trouble if the rest wouldn't accept his leadership.

"Abel, Giles and Roy are followers that understand their limitations," Jordan shrugged in acceptance of that fact.

"Then I should expect no problems then," d'Artagnan mused. "My thanks for the opportunity you've afforded me."

"So you're pleased to have joined up with us thieves and," then Jordan whispered theatrically, " _murderers_?"

"Oui," d'Artagnan chuckled and with a nod at Jordan he pulled on Zad's reins, slowing his horse up to converse with the other men. When he finally worked his way over to the inseparables, d'Artagnan's easy smile faded away. Riding beside Athos he spoke quietly. "Their reputation has been slightly exaggerated." Noting Athos' exchanging raised eyebrows with his brothers, d'Artagnan raised one of his own.

"Whelp," Porthos studied the kid's mocking face, "what's goin' on, eh?"

"The rumors about them having murdered innocents is just that... _rumors_ ," d'Artagnan heard Aramis release a long breath.

"Then they are hardly going to Paris to hurt Their Majesties," Athos remarked dryly. Staying in Paris would have been the wiser course of action to have taken now that he had heard this revelation. Plus Athos was tired of hearing his brother's grumbling on that very same thing. But it was hard to let go of his worry for their pup. He lost Thomas through his own carelessness of marrying the totally wrong woman. He would be destroyed if anything were to happen to d'Artagnan.

"If I didn't admire you three so much," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes, "I'd personally kick your asses all the way back to the garrison." Then tugging on Zad's reins once more he pulled away from the three stunned men. A smile danced about his lips as d'Artagnan was pleased with himself.

"He certainly gave us a peace of his mind," Aramis whistled softly, watching the lad move up ahead to join Jordan again.

"I don't blame the kid for bein' mad at us," Porthos said gruffly, shooting Athos another look of disapproval.

"Stop beating a dead horse with that battered stick of yours, Porthos," Athos retorted tiredly.

"Let it be, mon ami," Aramis whispered to his giant of a friend.

"Ain't like we can do anythin' about it now anyways," Porthos grunted.

"Wonder how much the pup knows about Jordan's plans," Aramis muttered under his breath.

"I'm sure d'Artagnan divulged all he knows with us," Athos commented.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you," Aramis glanced at Porthos who just nodded his head in agreement.

Sighing, Athos granted his two brothers an aggrieved look. "Meaning?"

"We're here on sufferance only," Aramis pointed out. "D'Artagnan doesn't have to share his knowledge with us if he doesn't want to."

"Don't pretend ya hadn't thought of that, Athos," Porthos frowned. It hurt thinking that the whelp would hide things from them.

But Athos' lips tightened as he ignored both men and rode beside them in silence.

++++

_A week later, close to Paris_

The men set up camp a day's ride outside of Paris. Jordan gave last minute instructions to his men and Jacques in particular.

"Be careful, Jordan," d'Artagnan clapped the older man's forearm. "If you don't return none of us would know where to begin looking for you."

"I'm very good at taking care of myself after all this time," Jordan smiled. "But merci."

Watching him ride away, d'Artagnan went to help Abel who was waiting for him so they could head out into the woods to hunt for their lunch.

++++

_Tavern Royal, Paris_

"Bonjour, Thiebaut," Jordan pulled up a chair and sat down beside his contact. Holding up two fingers the barkeep sent two lagers over to their table. Heads bent close together the men spoke in low tones. "Can we do it?"

Sipping his lager slowly, Thiebaut nodded. "As you know originally the Louvre was built as a fortress. There are numerous tunnels that are located under it that run from the palace to the city wall," he stared down into his nearly empty drink and grinned as Jordan signaled the barkeep again for a refill. "The royal vault is located below in those lower levels and is accessible through the tunnels."

"Excellent," Jordan sat back with a satisfied look on his face. "We can go in at night without any problems then." Sliding a bag of coins over to Thiebaut, Jordan smiled. "Merci. You've been of great service."

"Anytime," Thiebaut grinned and winked watching the younger man take his leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been having multiple computer issues lately and finally found time to post this.  
> I wish everyone who celebrates a Happy Thanksgiving!
> 
> See notes below.
> 
> +++

_Same day – White Swan Tavern_

“Nice idea of the whelp’s.” Porthos kept a careful eye on d’Artagnan, watching the youth move from man to man making sure they were all supplied with drinks to kill time while Jordan was gone. “Keeps everyone ‘appy,” he took a large swig of his own lager making a face as he did so. “Think the barkeep’s waterin’ these down some.”

Observing d’Artagnan making his way to the entrance of the tavern, Aramis saw the boy take a brief look back at everyone and then step outside. “He’s up to something,” he mused casting an amused eye at Athos, the latter arched an eyebrow at him. Aramis should have known better really.

“If the lad’s smart,” Athos drawled, “which we all know that he is,” his lips quirked in such a way that it wasn’t quite an actual smile, “d’Artagnan’s sending a message to Treville.”

“Wondered when the kid would get round to it,” Porthos’ dark eyes roamed the smoky tavern keeping a sharp lookout for any trouble. Though he knew that _trouble_ had a bad habit of constantly finding them, Porthos just wished for the boy’s sake that it would pass them up this time round.

Minutes later d’Artagnan came back inside, and as he took in the sight of Jordan’s men enjoying themselves, could tell that he hadn’t even been missed. Good he thought. The court runner he had located, ironically, was one d’Artagnan had used before and had proved trustworthy. So he sent the child off with a missive for Captain Treville safely tucked in the child’s worn jacket pocket, along with several coins for the lad’s efforts.

With luck, d’Artagnan mused silently, Jordan would be in for an eye opening experience later. And speaking of _le diable_ , their leader made his appearance as he joined d'Artagnan at the table.

Sittng down beside Jacques, Jordan gave the youngster an easy grin. “Nice way to keep them occupied, mon garcon.” He noticed Jacques signal the barkeep to bring over a lager for him. “Just hope they didn’t consume too much or they’ll be useless to me tonight.”

“No worries,” d’Artagnan gave Jordan a quick wink. He was pleased that things were falling into place quite nicely and without the help of the inseparables either. It felt good to know he didn’t always have to rely on his older brothers.

Being a fully fledged Musketeer himself, d’Artagnan knew he would be expected to take on solo missions such as this one. He only wished the three men he highly regarded and loved would understand that simple fact. “I told each of them it would become very painful if they had more than two drinks a piece." Amused, he had to hit Jordan on the back a couple of times as the other man had a coughing fit after spitting out his drink.

"I'm surprised the men actually followed your orders in this regard," Jordan said, pushing his empty mug aside.

"It helped that I kept a careful eye on them," d'Artagnan replied.

"I see good things ahead for both of us, Jacques." As another mug of lager was placed down in front of him, Jordan raised it in the air and clanked it against Jacques' in a salute to their rosy future.

D'Artagnan couldn't help the nagging edge of guilt that ate away at him for all the lies he had told Jordan. He wasn't sure if the older man had been feeding him a crock of bull about them not being murderers or not. Finding out that he quite liked Jordan had honestly taken d'Artagnan by surprise. Understanding why he had made the wrong choices in his life didn't absolve Jordan from being guilty of the crimes he and the others had committed to line their own pockets.

Knowing Jordan's frustration of living from hand to mouth had eventually turned him into a thief didn't help matters any as d'Artagnan could justify the same feeling. They shared a common farming background for one thing. He remembered the hardships that came with that territory yet his family had made it work for them and they had been happy. Even after his maman had passed away, d'Artagnan and his papa eeked out a decent living from farming, taxes not withstanding.

Thinking of Porthos, and the harsher upbringing he had when living in the Cour des Miracles, made d'Artagnan proud to know such a person. Look what his large friend had made of himself. To his way of thinking Jordan had taken the easier path to riches. He prayed they wouldn't have to cross swords later but, if things went awry when they got to the Louvre, d'Artagnan would do what was expected of him. "Is the plan still on?"

Nodding his head, Jordan reached out and tapped Jacques' hand. "Tonight in fact."

Sitting back in his chair, d'Artagnan was very glad he sent his message to Captain Treville when he had.

++++

_Slightly past midnight_

_Louvre, located on the right bank of the Seine, between Tuileries Gardens and Church of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois_

_Tunnels underneath the palace_

All the men had now been apprised of Jordan's plan. To say they were stunned had been a monumental understatement, but they were all quite willing to take the risk involved.

As for Jordan himself, he led the way through the lower levels leading to the royal treasury and to riches beyond even his wildest dreams.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. And this was definitely one of those times.

Quietly Jordan weaved in and out one passageway to another. His lantern cast long shadows on the walls of his men who followed behind him. He could almost feel the weight of those precious jewels in his hands. That is until he hit a major stumbling block consisting of at least eighteen to twenty Musketeers. All of whom were very well armed and gave all the appearances of wanting to separate Jordan and his men's heads from their shoulders.

"Good work, d'Artagnan," Captain Treville saluted the younger man with his own rapier, noting that d'Artagnan shifted away from the leader of these malandrins to stand beside his brothers.

Realizing the much older man must be the captain of the Musketeers, Jordan followed the officer's gaze as it rested on Jacques. _Jacques_ who had now stepped away from Jordan to stand in formation with those three newcomers to his gang. Growling low in his throat, Jordan spat, " _Espece de salaud_!"

It took considerable willpower to hold themselves back from surrounding d'Artagnan in a protective cocoon. But they did as they let their pup stand alone.

Still, Athos was determined to say something to Jordan as he watched the other's anger mount considerably. Especially when he noted Jordan pulling out his rapier to point it menacingly at their youngest. " _Before you embark on a journey of revenge... dig two graves_ ," Athos bit out. His hand tightened on the pommel of his own rapier as he slowly pulled it out of its sheath. Porthos and Aramis needed no prodding from him as they both followed suit.

Slighty annoyed, d'Artagnan didn't reprimand his friends for having his back. Holding up a hand, he communicated to his captain that he'd handle things. Praying that he wouldn't have to shed Jordan's blood this night, d'Artagnan faced the enraged man.

++++

_Notes_

_Tuileries Gardens_ is a public garden located between the Louvre and Place de la Concord which is a major public square.

Athos comment to Jordan of _Before you embark on a journey of revenge... dig two graves_ is a quote from Confucius.

And for those of you who may be curious... _Espece de salaud_ translates into - _you bastard._


	6. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale folks! 
> 
> ++++

_Same night, well past midnight now – tunnels underneath the Louvre_

Waiting to see what would happen, Captain Treville signaled the men that had come with him to stand down. He noted that the inseparables didn’t appear pleased but were holding back from jumping in to aid their youngest.

Circling one another, Jordan’s face was a mask of fury. “So, you were a spy the entire time!” he shouted. “I heard your captain call you _d’Artagnan_ ,” his eyes narrowed as he studied the younger man. “That is your name?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan replied. “Listen to me, Jordan,” he wanted to make him understand. “I was going to speak to the king on your behalf and hope he would consider not having you executed for just theft.”

“Mon Dieu!” Jordan shook his head in surprise. “You believed that pathetic excuse for a story I fed you?” Seeing the crestfallen look on d’Artagnan’s face, Jordan came to realize that the lad had. “How could you be so naïve?”

“D’Art’s not naïve!” Porthos yelled out, not being able to contain his anger. “Kid thinks the best of everyone til,” he growled at Jordan, making the other man wary as Porthos’ voice sounded like a jungle predator ready to rip the throat out of its prey, “someone the likes of ya takes that trust and crushes it!”

“Porthos,” d’Artagnan warned with a look in his direction. Grateful though he was for his brother’s support he didn’t need to be defended.

Backing down in the face of the boy’s ire, Porthos grumbled about wanting to punch Jordan’s lights out.

“Back to what you were saying,” d’Artagnan one eyebrow high as he contemplated his adversary.

“My men and I left trails of bodies behind us,” Jordan announced proudly. “You know very well that I vowed not to make life turn me into what it had made of my parents. Slaves to a farm that never showed a profit!”

“You’re preaching to the choir there,” Athos spoke out. “As you should remember that d’Artagnan here was raised on a farm and look how well he turned out.”

“Oui,” Jordan sneered, “I can see that. A damn Musketeer in disguise!”

“Athos, you are not helping matters,” d’Artagnan glared at him. “Stay out of this if you will.”

“That’s putting you in your place, mon frère,” Aramis’ quiet laughter did not amuse Athos one bit.

“I cared not for the loss of any of those lives we took that got in our way,” Jordan kept circling the boy, looking for an opportunity to take d’Artagnan by surprise.

“I shouldn’t have given you the benefit of the doubt,” d’Artagnan snarled, truly disgusted with himself for having been taking in by Jordan’s lies and in seeing something more than a thief in the man. He knew better now. Jordan could add murderer to his list of sins as well.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, d’Artagnan stopped circling Jordan. His Gascon temper finally fired up at being so completely duped. “Your men can’t help you now, and my brothers are leaving your fate up to me,” d’artagnan turned slightly and saluted the inseparables with his rapier and nodded gratefully to Captain Treville. “What say you now, Jordan?” He could see his words had affected the older man as Jordan’s eyes sparked with something undefinable. “You can either fight me here and die or end up dangling from a noose around your neck. The choice is yours to make.”

“If there is no interference between us,” Jordan’s gaze swept over the three men who stood alongside their captain, “I’ll take my chances with you. I dearly wish to see you writhing on the ground with my sword stuck inside you anyway,” Jordan added for good measure, hearing low growls of anger coming from Porthos again.

Hearing those words to the whelp only made Porthos’ volatile temper all the more hotter but Aramis’ hand, that lingered on his back, reminded him that this was d’Artagnan’s fight. “Jordan’s more than likely underestimated our kid’s skill.”

“Perhaps I should procure a wagon now to remove Jordan’s body from our sight after d'Artagnan makes short work of the canaille,” Aramis mused.

“It’s never a good idea to count your chickens before they are even hatched,” Athos remarked. “Jordan’s handling of a blade is yet an unknown variable,” his blue eyes darkened in concern for their youngest. “I know d’Artagnan wants to do this on his own terms, but I swear if the fight appears to be going against the lad I will step in,” Athos turned his head away from Aramis’ and Porthos’ disturbed expressions. “Even if it would mean I’d lose d’Artagnan’s respect and ultimately his hand of friendship for doing so,” Athos kept his face averted from them. “I could not live in a world that was devoid of such a bright life.”

Porthos and Aramis exchanged knowing smirks. Neither man was surprised at Athos’ admission. Indeed, they felt the same way toward their youngest brother.

“This could get messy,” Aramis murmured.

“Oui,” Porthos bobbed his head. “And that ain’t countin’ Jordan’s blood spillin’ all over the ground either,” he grinned. “Wanna bet on how long it’ll take the whelp ta finish Jordan off?”

“Apologies, mon ami,” Aramis sighed, “as usual my pockets are empty.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted, “just like your ‘ead.”

Mouth gaping open, Aramis couldn’t believe what had come out of Porthos’ mouth.

“Will you two please be quiet!” Athos hissed. “Keep your comments to yourself and focus on d’Artagnan if you will!”

Prior to d’Artagnan and Jordan facing off, Captain Treville had dismissed his soldiers. Having had them remove Jordan’s men and installing them all in the Bastille. He stood beside Athos to observe the young Gascon in action. “He acquitted himself well in this operation,” shooting his lieutenant a look filled with pride. “No thanks to you three idiots running off after the boy.” Treville held up a finger. “To which I will have words to say for all of you later.”

“I expected no less.” Athos’ lips firmed into a thin line, knowing that the coming reprimand from Treville was well deserved. D’Artagnan hadn’t needed them on this mission and there was the rub. Their pup was now fully grown and could be counted to carry on without them if needs must. Perhaps it was that thought that made Athos feel quite ancient and not wanted.

As d’Artagnan and Jordan dueled, their blades literally sparked off one another from the tremendous force of their blows.

“There’s more to you than meets the eye, boy,” Jordan commented as he sidestepped another thrust from d’Artagnan.

“More than even you could ever guess at,” d’Artagnan hissed and lunged again with a thrust that just missed stabbing Jordan in the upper right shoulder.

Dodging the other man’s blade, d’Artagnan used his trademark maneuver of dropping to the ground and swiping at Jordan’s legs with his rapier.

Taken aback, Jordan stumbled as he moved away from d'Artagnan's blade. In doing so he left himself vulnerable as the youngster quickly gained his feet, and Jordan found himself facing his own mortality.

Reminescent of the time d'Artagnan won his pauldron in his fight with Labarge, he found himself in the exact same position. Wanting only to finish this, d'Artagnan twisted his body around Jordan's and thrusted upward into the man's chest. Speaking into Jordan's ear, d'Artagnan whispered, "This is for all the innocent lives you took."

Pulling his bloody sword free, d'Artagnan watched as Jordan's lifeless body fell at his feet. The man appeared smaller somehow to d'Artagnan's eyes as he stood over it. No matter. The malandrin wouldn't be causing trouble any longer.

Feeling a hand grip his shoulder, d'Artagnan calmed his still rapidly beating heart and turning his head slightly to the right encountered Captain Treville nodding at him in approval.

"Fine work, son," Treville smiled. "King Louis will be well pleased at tonight's outcome." Then he proceeded to arrange transportation for the body to be taken away to the morgue.

Still breathing hard from his exertions, d'Artagnan felt the presence of the inseparables surround him.

"This is where I guess we ask your forgiveness," Porthos said, thinking that this was the perfect time to start groveling.

"For not _trusting_ in my abilities you mean," d'Artagnan scowled. "It's like saying you don't trust yourselves," he scoffed. "I was trained by all of you after all," he rolled his eyes.

"Whelp, ya ain't makin' any of this easy," Porthos complained.

"Merde!" d'Artagnan swore. "Why should I?"

"D'Artagnan," Athos slowly approached the youngster, "we are truly sorry for our behavior of late," he grimaced. "It will please you to know that Treville is going to dress us down for the way we acted in haste."

"He is?" Aramis wondered if he could make himself scarce.

"Damn!" Porthos never enjoyed being on the receiving end of one of their captain's tirades. They weren't pretty. Especially when Treville had a valid reason for them.

"There is some small satisfaction in that," d'Artagnan's eyes lit up with amusement, giving his brothers a cocky grin.

"If we somehow survive tomorrow after Treville's through wiping the floor with us," Athos cleared his throat, ignoring Porthos' snort, "dinner will be on us wherever you'd like."

"On us?" Aramis questioned with a frown marring his handsome face.

"Damn straight we will!" Porthos shot the marksman a cold look. It was the least they could do for the hurt they caused the whelp.

Smiling shyly, d'Artagnan ducked his head. "Consider your apology accepted then."

"What apology?" Aramis scratched at his beard, acting like he didn't know what the boy was talking about. He glanced over at Athos who had finally lost that constipated look he had been wearing lately. "Apologize for caring about you... _NEVER_!"

Hearing those words spoken so vehemently warmed d'Artagnan's heart no end. "Peace, Aramis," he nudged into the sharpshooter's shoulder until Aramis responded in kind. "It is for that very thing that I can find it in myself to forgive all of you."

"Come," Athos interrupted, seeing how drained the lad was from his fight, "we can pick this conversation up on the morrow. But for now I believe d'Artagnan needs his bed more than anything else at the moment."

"Ever looking out for me, eh, Athos?" d'Artagnan stared fondly at his mentor. He expected the older Musketeer would never stop looking out for him.

"Always," Athos agreed with an arm about the pup's shoulder. "It will be that way until I no longer draw breath."

"Then I hope you live to be an extremely old man," d'Artagnan teased, earning himself an affectionate squeeze to the back of his neck from Athos and laughter from the other two nitwits.

Observing d'Artagnan and Athos walking companionably side by side, Aramis glanced at Porthos. "I always said that d'Artagnan would make us better men."

Thinking that an odd remark, Porthos tilted his head to the side in question while studying his friend. "Yeah, but _better_ at what?"

"Perhaps we'll save that discussion for another time, mon ami," Aramis' eyes twinkled. "Like say tomorrow night over dinner," he grinned. "I'm sure if we ask nicely d'Artagnan may share his thoughts on it with us."

"Not bloody damn likely!" Porthos bellowed.

Amused at the larger man's protests, Aramis began to hum a tune as they left the tunnels. Catching d'Artagnan's eye, he knew the youngster had heard their exchange. It will be interesting to hear the lad's suggestions on making them _better men_ , Porthos' grumblings aside.

The End


End file.
